The Great Leader
by AbbyH321
Summary: The murder of a great leader. Some would call it a relief, others would consider it vaticide.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Jack Kelly or Spot Conlon.

This is for Newsie Challenge Weeks 10-11!

Enjoy!!!

-Chapter 1-

I am a murderer. In a way I don't regret anything that had happened in the year 1900. He deserved to die. The great prophet, the king of his land, they called him, the great leader of his territory. Every morning, whether rain, snow, hail, or hot and humid temperatures he sold newspapers, and so did his boys. If he sold papes, they sold papes. He was their leader and they did every last thing he told them to do. If he said, 'jump,' they said, 'how high?'.

They were never his servants or anything like that, but they had the utmost respect for him. From his youngest orphan to his oldest newsboy, I have never seen such respect and fear in their eyes when anyone spoke his name. I use the word fear, but I don't mean it as it sounds. They weren't scared of him, not at all. They weren't afraid to approach him, unless they knew they were to be punished, and they weren't afraid to speak of him or worry to immediately do as he says, unless of course, it was on a strict command to be completed at the moment.

They didn't fear his ego, no matter how large it became, or the assertiveness that went along with his voice. However, to avoid fearing the leader, they all used common sense. For example, I never heard not one newsie question his accessories. They knew better, I guess. They knew better than to question his past, ask him why he wore it all the time. I knew why of course, but none of the newsies knew that I knew, and none of them bothered to ask.

One reason being many of them weren't smart enough to realize I knew. Another reason being even if they thought I did know, they knew I would have been sworn to secrecy behind the matter of the subject. So like I said, some of them may be scared of his power or strength, but to the well-organized mind, he was nothing but an old softie with a large ego.

Back in 1900 I was pretty well known amongst both Manhattan and Brooklyn. Along with the great leader that I spoke of earlier, I was respected. In a way I acted as a tie, a bond if you will, between Manhattan and Brooklyn. I was a string that both Jack Kelly and Spot Conlon held onto. I kept Manhattan and Brooklyn allied, for both territories knew that if they ignored one another turmoil would spread like wild fire. Why, you may ask. Well, for one thing, my boyfriend was on of the great leaders I am referring to, on the other hand, the other great leader was my older brother.

You might remember or you might not remember what the first thing I told you was. I told you that I was a murderer. I murdered the great prophet, committed vaticide, if you will. I killed him and the whole city knew it. It was obvious, and the fact that I had admitted it helped a little.

I always had threatened him, but I never really meant it. He just went too far. Everyone it the lodging house didn't think anything of it when I threatened him, they knew I was just angry with him and had lost my temper. After the boys realized I had done it, and I told them that I had, I expected the relationships between us to change. It was practical that it did. They knew I had a reason to kill him, even if they didn't exactly know what that reason was.

And at that point they would probably never know exactly why, unless my brother told them, because they knew better than to question me about it. Many of the boys, no matter what age, feared me and lost their true respect for me. I had killed their leader, their king, their prophet. They had a right to fear me, but I never acted any differently towards them.

It was hard not to though because they barely communicated with me. Especially the older boys, such fear in their eyes. Making mental notes to themselves to never make the same mistake their leader had, the mistake that had gone to far, the mistake that had gotten him killed.

Even though I had taught them all a very valuable lesson, I hated how our relationships and friendships were torn apart, murdered as well. But not for one second have I ever regretted what I did. You might not believe me, so I'll explain it to you. I'll tell you everything that happened last summer, the summer of 1900.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Jack Kelly or Spot Conlon, as well as any other newsies in the Manhattan Lodging House.

**Air -** Thanks so much for the review! I hope to keep you in suspense. lol

**Love97 -** I will try to update as soon as I can. Thanks for the review! I'm glad you enjoy it.

**T-R-Us -** Thanks for the cookie. You;re a very smart reader. Thanks for the review!

**Sparks Kelly -** Hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for the review!

-Chapter 2-

I awoke on the Tuesday morning, the first Tuesday of July to find myself in the Manhattan Lodging House. I woke up about an hour before all the boys did It became a habit of mine for two reasons.

For one thing it was quiet and I got the whole washroom to myself, and secondly they were all lazy jerks. And this greatly included my brother and my boyfriend.

Jack Kelly was the leader of the Manhattan Newsies and bunked with his boys. Spot Conlon had stayed the night over in Manhattan with Jack to discuss some sort of plans to have a union meeting at Irving Hall. Me, I went back and forth between Manhattan and Brooklyn, both places were now home. But being both Jack and Spot were here in Manhattan, there was no reason for me to sleep in Brooklyn that night.

After I had finished getting dressed I went over to the window to check out the day's selling conditions, only to find the foggiest day I had seen in years. It overtook the city like cap being put on life.

Fog in July was pretty rare in New York City but I didn't think anything of it. I rested my head up against the window. I could hear him coming up behind me. He rapped his arms around my waist. I took my head off the window and leaned back onto him, resting the back of my head on the front of his shoulder.

"Good morning princess," he whispered in my ear, kissing my cheek gently.

"You're up early," I remarked, picking at his habit to oversleep.

"The birds woke me up," he stated simply.

"The birds?" I questioned, doubting his answer. "I don't hear any birds. And please tell me why the birds would be singing on a day like today?" I asked him, gesturing to the to the foggy city outside of the window.

"Because they weren't outside," he told me as if he expected me to know the entire time. "The birds are in my head, they tell me things."

"Well," I said, my head still resting on his shoulder, "what kind of things do they tell you?"

"All different things," he told me, "they tell me when problems will start, they can sense it and they tell me because they know how powerful I am."

"Oh really?" I asked him, removing his arms from around my waist. "And what kind of power do you have?" I questioned him, turning around to face him.

"You don't know of my great powers?" he asked me, folding his arms across his chest.

"Please, enlighten me," I said to him. Mind you we were still whispering as not to wake anyone up. But you could tell we were both kidding around with this so called 'argument' because we both held our remarks with a big smirk across our face.

"Well," he began, "along with being the most amazing leader in the world, I'm also charming, handsome-"

"and a conceited bighead," I finished for him.

"What did you say?" he asked me with a huge grin.

"You heard me," I responded. I turned around and walked back to my bunk. I didn't turn around to see his reaction but I know he must have followed me because as soon as I laid back on my bed he sat on top of my stomach.

"Take it back," he said to me.

"Or what?" I asked him.

"Or I will never kiss you again," he said simply.

"Oh really?" I questioned him, knowing that would never happen in a million years, we were engaged to be married. So to prove to him that it would never happen I reached out, pulled his head down, and kissed him. "You never said I couldn't kiss you," I remarked.

"Smart aleck," he mumbled. With that, he finally stood up and walked into the washroom just as the rest of the lodging house was beginning to stir.

I stood up and walked back over to the window.

"Sleep well?" asked a voice directly behind me. I turned around to find my brother fastening his possession around his neck. I don't remember a day where he was without it.

"I guess," I responded, shrugging my shoulders. "Look," I said to him in the a gloomy voice, gesturing once again to the city outside the window.

"What's the problem?" he asked me.

"It's so foggy out," I said, "It's summer and everyone's going to be inside."

"And that's going to stop you?" he asked me, "You've been selling papes for fifteen years and you're going to let a little fog stop you from having a good selling day? This is coming from the girl who sells in blizzards, and hail, and-," his face looked as though his mind stopped functioning for a moment, "hold on a minute, what's the matter?" he asked.

"What makes you think something's the matter," I said, completely ignoring the fact he knew me too well."

"Something's up," he repeated again, "you are letting selling become an obstacle, you're tired, not your usual peppy self, the weather is getting to your mood again,

it's controlling you like last time. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I stated firmly.

"Spill, now," he said in his 'big brother tone', of which, by the way, I strongly felt he took advantage of.

"Nothing, it's just, something's up with him," I said, gesturing my head towards the leader I was with earlier.

"What kind of something?"

"I dunno, something's on his mind," I told him, "there is something he's not telling me."

"How do you know?"

"I can feel it."

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own Red. I do not own any of the mentioned characters from the movie Newsies.

**  
iaintgottaname** - I'm glad you like it! Thanks for reviewing.

**love97** - That's the point. lol. You'll find out, eventually.....

**Shakesperean Fool** - I'm glad I got you hooked. Thanks for the review!

**Dimonah Tralon** - I'm glad I haven't given it away for you. I promise you'll find out in the end!

-Chapter 3-

_Mush's POV_

I walked out of the manhattan lodging house following the same exact routine I did every morning. Wake up at the crack of dawn, wash and get dressed, walk down to the distribution office, sell papes all day and eat a meal.

Everyday I sold papes, even on Sundays. For as boring as this lifestyle may seem, we do sometimes have things to look forward to. Last summer, of course, was probably the proudest time of my life.

Us, we, the Manhattan newsboys, had done the greatest thing American kids had ever done. The third estate had been recognized by the king of New York City, with the help of know one else but the third estate.

It wouldn't have been possible of course without our leader, Jack Kelly. Jack wouldn't fall to their level. Joseph Pulitzer, the millionaire, decided to cut our profit and Jack persuaded us not to sell papers, an insane thought in my mind at the time.

I was going to die if I didn't sell papes, but yet, we managed. I still don't know how, but we got in the papers, and even made our own paper until the price of newspapers went back to the way it was.

But it never would have happened with just Manhattan, we weren't a union. So we decided to get every single newsboy in all of New York City to join us.

Of course, no one wanted to risk losing their jobs, especially when there was a very slim chance of success. So we went to the most powerful and feared territory in the whole city, and we went to the man in charge of it.

We went to Spot Conlon, the leader of Brooklyn. And, eventually, got him along with the rest of the Brooklyn newsboys to join us. The news spread like wild fire.

As soon as the news got out that Brooklyn had joined the strike, so did everyone else, and we became unstoppable. Manhattan and Brooklyn had become allies through the strike and they have never stopped the policy since.

They had no reason to ignore each other again, if anything, they had a reason to stay allied. And that reason was Red. Red was his younger sister and when Brooklyn and Manhattan joined together last summer, she met him.

Her brother didn't like it at first, but Red can be very convincing, even for only have being sixteen years old. Red is a piece of work. Her brother named her Red because of her eyes. They weren't red to the naked eye, but Red never exactly had a stable temper and when she got angry she only saw red.

But She fell in love with him, instantly, and I don't think they have lived a day without each other ever since.

The three of them, her brother never forgotton in her mind, were like Cleopatra and Ptolemy. A weird combination of siblings and married life, only the marriage part wasn't quite there yet.

Once the two of them had met it was as if the entire city knew the sun was never going to set on their relationship. Through thick or thin, night or day, right or wrong, in sick and in health, until death would they part.

It was just so.

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Mush, or any other specific newsboys. I do however own Red.

**Dimonah Tralon -** Thanks for the encouragement. I'm glad you're enjoying it!

**KlownKid-131 -** You'll just have to wait and find out.....and it is in the dictionary....well mine anyway.

**Love 97 -** You will learn more as it goes on. Thanks for the review!

-Chapter 4-

_Red's POV_

I walked with him, hand in hand, to the distribution office that morning. It didn't seem any different than any other day.

I always walked hand in hand with him, just this was one of the rare mornings where I awoke to find him in the same place as me. My brother would never let me spend the night with him at his lodging house, not that I ever asked, but I knew there was no need to.

I have never walked with him from the Manhattan Lodging House to the distribution office before, but it was a trend I was rather enjoying. In my mind I knew something was the matter with him, his mind wasn't in the same place as the rest of his body.

I wasn't sure if I should ask him about it just then. My head was arguing with itself if I should bring it up.

I came to a verdict to leave the matter alone, and save it for later, not to ruin the day. I wish I would have known that it being on my mind all day was going to be worse then the two of us in an informal quarrel, feeling awkward all day.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I snapped my head around to find Mush.

"Good Morning Mush," I said to him, removing his hand from my shoulder.

"Mornin' Red," he replied with a grin, "nice weather we're having, ain't it?"

"Oh yea Mush, great selling conditions," I said rolling my eyes, "it's really great how we can't see customers more than a block away."

"And that's gonna stop you?" he asked me, raising his eyebrows. I shrugged my shoulders

"Let's go, kiddo," he said, running ahead of me. But he moved too slowly because I still managed to kick him. He stumbled a little but kept on running. I hated it when he called me that, I was seventeen years old, the same age as him.

Ignoring Mush, I turned my attention to my hand, still being held by him. I raised my head and looked into his eyes. He was looking down, staring at the uneven cobblestones.

I put my free hand under his chin and tilted his head so he was looking back at me. It took him a second to get out of his fixed daze, but after realizing what was going on he smiled at me.

"What's the matter?" I asked him, opening the subject.

"Nothing," he replied, he leaned in and kissed me. After he pulled away I smiled back at him.

I thought it was a sign of affection, but now I've come to the conclusion it was just his way of avoiding the subject.

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	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the newsies. I do own Red and Mr. Cleaves.

**Dimonah Tralon -** I'm a big procrastinator too. Thanks for the review!

**Spraks Kelly** - Nope. You're wrong. Well, you could be right. You'll just have to wait and see.

**love97** - You'll get to know her through her rants and thinking. Thanks for the review!

-Chapter 5-

_Red's POV_

We walked down the gloomy streets of the city, my mind still deep in thought.

I don't like it when other people are troubled, it bothers me too much, my brother says it's my only weakness.

He thinks that I shouldn't spend so much time worrying 'bout what everyone else is thinking and that I should only be worried 'bout what I am thinking. According to him it's a quality that only a woman can have.

But I don't think that's true, because he's worried about what I am thinking all the time.

I would never tell him that though, not now anyway. I'm saving it for later, when I can really make use of it.

I have a lot of theories in my mind, like how I can tell what people are thinking. Not really of course, but I can't be lied to and I know when something is the matter with someone. I am able to read personalities really well, another trait my brother says only women can possess, but when I tell him he's wrong he doesn't answer.

I don't even think he really believes it himself, he just gets pure joy out of bothering me.

We finally walked through the gate of the distribution office and stepped into line. The line was shorter than usual that morning, about twenty people less dense then normal. I stood there, not saying a word to anyone.

I'm usually deep in conversation with the boys about headlines or argued about where the best selling spots were.

But I didn't care about all that today, he was troubled, and therefore, I was troubled too.

After about ten minutes of waiting for papes I made it to the front of the line.

"Good Mornin' to ya Red," Mr. Cleaves said, like he does every other morning.

Mr. Cleaves took over for Weasel about a month after the strike had ended. We all liked Mr. Cleaves a lot better anyhow.

"Mornin' Mr. Cleaves," I said back to him. I didn't show half as much enthusiasm as he did but I was just trying to be polite. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a few coins and placed them onto the counter, "50 papes please."

"What's the matter with you this mornin' Red? You don't seem yourself?"

"Ahh, it's nothin Mr. Cleaves," I told him, "I just got a lot on my mind." As the papers were put in front of me I slung them over my shoulder.

"Good day Red," he said to me as I walked off the platform, tipping his hat to me just like he does every other morning.

I didn't need to count my papes anymore, everyone trusted Cleaves.

A/N: Sorry its so short. R&R!!!


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